They lectured us on languages. What kinds there are, how to classify them, and how long and tedious they are to learn. We were handed sheets with texts from "ancient times."

  I read them without any trouble. For me, it wasn't a matter of decoding—I simply recognized words I had once spoken myself. The teachers droned on about special deciphering scrolls, how to choose them, and how to properly direct mana so the letters would align into meaning. Deathly boring. It was like listening to a lecture on how to use a fork when you've already finished three bowls of soup.

  While they talked, I felt Alexia’s hand somewhere nearby and thought about more grounded matters. For instance, where I could mend my clothes. Sighing, I made a lazy gesture with my hand beneath the desk.

  ZING.

  The fabric began to pull together on its own, like a living organism. My mana simply forced the threads to "remember" their original state. The holes vanished; the scorch marks dissolved. However, I didn't touch the mask. I actually liked that crack. It made me look more... tragic. Fewer unnecessary questions from passersby. Let them think I’m a victim of an accident rather than just a mysterious figure.

  Class ended. Alexia and Lianel materialized beside me instantly. "Which one do you have next?" Alexia asked, peering at my schedule. "Oh, we have the same one. Let's go."

  In the new classroom, I honestly tried to make my way to the back seats—to the safety of the rear rows. Но Алексия снова проявила чудеса реакции: she simply intercepted my sleeve and, with one sharp tug, sat me down next to her in the second row.

  I didn't resist. There was zero point.

  She wrapped her arms around my neck again, moved in close, and began whispering something in my ear. Her voice was quiet, warm, and the meaning was entirely indistinguishable, but for some reason, a strange warmth spread through my body because of it.

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  When the teacher entered, she let go of my neck but didn't move away. Cultural Studies began. The instructor talked enthusiastically about the cultural differences of the United Nations, their customs, and traditions. I listened to it like the sound of rain outside the window.

  At some point, Alexia’s palm habitually rested on the crown of my head. Her fingers began to slowly and methodically run through my hair, massaging the scalp.

  That was it. Curtains. Alexia, without ceasing her activity, leaned toward the very edge of my mask. "Sleep, Greg..." she whispered, her breath brushing against my ear.

  And I fell asleep. Right in the middle of a lecture on the great cultural achievements of this world.

  Oh, for heaven's sake, what the hell is this? Does he really like this?

  I watched them from two rows back. He likes being manipulated. He likes being petted on the head like a beaten puppy. He just shuts down! What the… He turns into a vegetable in a matter of seconds.

  I turned to Kael. My brother was still pretending to take notes, but I could see it—he was also glancing at the "happy couple." "Do you guys really like being treated like that?" I nodded toward Greg, whose head was already comfortably nestled on the desk under the princess’s hand.

  "Well..." Kael thought for a moment and smiled dreamily. "Honestly? I wouldn't mind it either. To be scratched like that after a hard day... it’s the dream."

  I gave him the most contemptuous look I was capable of.

  "But seriously," Kael immediately turned solemn, "it looks very strange. He doesn't look like someone whose will is easily suppressed. We should talk to him in private. Ask him directly: does he even realize what they’re doing to him? Or is this his way of meditating?"

  "Yeah, exactly," I hissed, feeling everything inside me itch with indignation. "You’re right. We need to shake him out of this."

  Kael suddenly fell silent, looked at me intently, and gave a quiet snort. "And you, Alastia, stop being so jealous. It's written all over your face."

  "I am NOT jealous of him!" I nearly burst into a shout, remembering just in time that we were in class. "It’s just... it’s annoying. In my eyes, such an interesting person—a true anomaly—has turned into someone’s obedient toy. It’s just... a waste!"

  "Right," Kael smirked slyly. "You wouldn't mind making him your toy, would you? Taking him apart, testing his durability, seeing how he reacts to your..."

  I smiled involuntarily, imagining the scene. "That’s different, brother. That’s entirely different."